


The First Taste

by spire_cx



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Crossdressing, Foot Fetish, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 10:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spire_cx/pseuds/spire_cx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for Hoya's birthday, Dongwoo wears white.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Taste

**Author's Note:**

> happy (slightly belated) Valentine's Day! n__n

It's six o'clock when Hoya gets Dongwoo's text, a softly-worded request to come straight home at seven and make no detours for snacks that would spoil his dinner.

It's a mildly terrifying message. The last time Dongwoo tried to cook it ended in melted dishware, a cutting board in flames, and an oven caked in exploded potatoes. Hoya tries not to worry; maybe Woohyun is there to supervise? He can only hope and pray.

When he arrives home the apartment is disturbingly quiet. He can see at the end of the darkened entryway that the lights in the living room are low. The air is warm and smells like sea salt, and somehow, for some reason, Hoya's heart begins to race.

Hoya toes off his shoes and shucks off his coat and drops his keys in the bowl by the door. "Dongwoo?" he says as he makes his way down the hall.

Dongwoo doesn't answer, but Hoya needn't have called. He finds him as he comes into the living room: sitting on the couch, underlit by the soft blue glow of his phone in his hands, wearing a t-shirt, briefs, thigh-highs, and the most beautiful pair of high heels Hoya has ever seen—all in white, and glowing in the near-darkness.

"Aish," Hoya hisses as if he's been scalded, puts his hands over his suddenly burning-hot ears, and turns away. 

His heart is hammering in his chest; he figures he must be hallucinating. The sight is so unbelievable it physically hurts to see it. His smile is so wide his cheeks are aching, and his heart so big and light it's a miracle he's not floating away. In all his years of fantasizing, none of the scenarios he imagined were nearly as good as this. Dongwoo is sitting behind him on the couch wearing pumps and stockings—sitting there waiting for him to come home.

Hoya puts the back of his hand against his lips, tries to dull his smile, and turns to face him.

Dongwoo glances up briefly from his phone. "Hi."

Hoya tries hard not to look, but in the end he can't help but stare. His gaze falls inevitably to Dongwoo's feet. The shoes are tall and strappy and all white leather, beautiful bondage that exposes everything Hoya wants to see: the ankle, the arch, the tips of his toes. The seams of the stockings are showing, wavering white lines over his toenails—it's sloppy and careless and perfect, and the longer Hoya looks at it the stronger the dark and heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach grows.

"What's—uh," Hoya stumbles, his entire vocabulary having suddenly vanished into thin air. "Where's Woohyun?"

"Mmm," Dongwoo taps at his phone. Its light fades away; he places it beside him on the cushion and looks up at Hoya through painted eyelashes. "I sent him out."

Hoya's heart skips and his cock throbs. "Is he coming back?"

"Eventually. In awhile." Dongwoo smiles. "You look cute today."

"Thanks," Hoya says. "You do too."

Understatement of the century, really.

Dongwoo's smile widens. He crosses his legs, exposing the pale skin on the back of his thigh, and Hoya stares at the seam of the stocking pressing into his flesh. 

"Is this dinner?" Hoya asks, licking his lips.

"Part of it." Dongwoo tilts his head. "Do you want to come sit down?"

There are charms on the heels of the shoes, golden and glittering. Dongwoo points the foot of the leg he has crossed and its charm flashes as it sways, throwing off the light.

Yes, Hoya definitely wants to sit down.

He doesn't realize he's shaking until he lowers himself into the couch cushions, all the muscles in his legs jumping and twitching under his skin. Once he's settled Dongwoo puts one hand on his thigh and the other on the back of his neck. His fingers are hot and he's taken off even his favorite rings; he's wearing only a single silver bracelet, draped across the delicate bones of his wrist and shining against the dark navy of Hoya's slacks.

"What's all this for?" Hoya asks.

"Early birthday present, of course," says Dongwoo, his voice low and reverent. "Something just from me."

Hoya, still quivering, turns towards him. He lets himself look for more than just a moment this time, drinking in the sight of Dongwoo's long legs and thick thighs, his cock and balls heavy between his legs, his broad and bony shoulders draped in the thin fabric of his t-shirt. His eyes, lined in black with an expert hand, are dark like night and wide with anticipation.

Over Dongwoo's shoulder, he notices the bottle of lube on the table beside the lamp.

It's Dongwoo who pulls Hoya in for a kiss, and Hoya goes willingly. Dongwoo's lips taste like lip balm and his mouth like salt and as always he moans and gasps around Hoya's tongue every time he presses deeper.

When they part Dongwoo buries his face against Hoya's neck and swings his legs up into his lap. They're heavy and soft over Hoya's erection, and when Hoya thinks about them wrapped around his waist, wrapped around his cock, his breath goes out of him in a rush. He puts one desperate hand on Dongwoo's thigh, and beneath his fingers the stockings are sleek and slippery and warm. As he runs his hand up Dongwoo's leg the material rasps on the ridges of his fingerprints.

When he reaches the top and touches skin, Dongwoo gasps.

"No." He grabs Hoya's hand and pushes it back down his thigh. "Touch my feet," he demands, and Hoya cannot stifle the groan he makes in response. He inhales a deep breath, taking in the scent of Dongwoo's hair, and slides his hand down: over his thigh, over his knee, over the muscles of his calf, until he reaches the leather straps holding his foot in the shoe.

He shudders, somewhere dark, somewhere unseen, heart pounding, throat tight.

"How did you know?" he asks. Strands of Dongwoo's hair slither between his lips.

He can feel Dongwoo's smile against his skin, the corners of his mouth turning upward. "Educated guess," he says. It probably wasn't difficult. Hoya hasn't exactly been discreet about his appreciation: the footrubs and massages after dance practice, the toe-sucking and arch-biting and ankle-holding during sex. "You could have told me."

He hadn't even thought of it, to be honest. The idea was too absurd even for contemplation. Even now he can hardly believe he's here: holding Dongwoo in his arms, touching him like this.

In the shoe Dongwoo's foot is perfection: long and curving and dainty and strong. His warmth radiates through the nylon of the stockings, and even the shoe leather has gone supple and soft with his body heat. But it's the contrast that really takes Hoya's breath away: the flesh of his foot in the gaps between the leather, hot and cold, hard and soft.

He runs his fingers around the patches of exposed stocking, tracing the cutouts in rapt silence. Dongwoo holds his foot perfectly still and pants against Hoya's neck, brushing his lips up and down skin that is prickly with stubble.

"You're so sexy," Hoya whispers; maybe it's cheesy but it's the only thought he can manage right now. Dongwoo's sexy feet, legs, body, breath.

Dongwoo chuckles. He detaches himself from Hoya and lays back on the couch.

"Have you ever thought that maybe it's because of you?" he asks. His eyes are black and fathomless, and his voice is deep and smooth. He blinks, sighs, and tilts his head just so. 

"I think it's you," Dongwoo says. "I think you make me this way."

Then he bends a knee, lifts a leg, and presses the sole of his shoe into Hoya's crotch.

Hoya gasps, electrified. His head falls back and his hands fly forward to grab Dongwoo's ankle and hold him in place. Before he can even think about what's happening he's bucking his hips up against the unrelenting surface of the shoe.

His entire body hums in bliss. He holds Dongwoo's foot in place with a strong hand and ruts against it, grinding rhythmically against the plastic sole. It's perfect—beyond perfect, it's everything he's ever dreamed of and more. The hard edge moves up and down his cock, the heel digs into his thigh, Dongwoo's foot is soft and alive in his hands, and it's all so good he can already feel orgasm creeping up on him, as if all the years of their history have been erased and he's a blushing, awkward teenager again, feeling someone else's hand on his cock for the very first time.

He fucks Dongwoo's feet for what seems like an eternity: up and down against the hardness, thinking about his pretty legs, his pretty feet, the pretty sounds he makes when he's being fucked. 

Just as the pleasure is becoming too strong to think through he hears a hitch of breath. When he opens his eyes he sees Dongwoo, laid out on the couch, back arched, eyes squeezed shut, moving a hand over his cock through his underwear. His other arm is twisted behind him, his long fingers rubbing teasing circles around his hole.

It's like a punch to the gut. "Oh fuck," Hoya gasps, "fuck, I'm—"

Dongwoo's eyes snap open. He yanks his feet out of Hoya's grasp, lifts up his body, and pulls off his briefs. The fabric slides easily over the stockings and catches on the shoes, but the garment is off in an instant and before it even it hits the floor Hoya is already kneeling between Dongwoo's spread legs, falling into a familiar position.

When Hoya's hand finds Dongwoo's hole he's already open, ready and waiting, and god, Hoya thinks, he's so good at this. He presses two spit-slick fingers inside him and Dongwoo moans, his body shakes, and Hoya knows he's burning with the need to move, to press back, to push deeper. Hoya grants him four long strokes before pulling his hand away; then he spits on his fingers and pushes three of them back inside.

"Fuck," Dongwoo curses, throwing his head back. He tries his best to bounce on Hoya's hand, but the position is too compromising and the couch too hard and all he can manage are teasing circles at best. "Come on," he gasps, face red with want as he reaches forward to claw at the buckle of Hoya's belt. "Just fuck me."

It's messy and desperate as they struggle with shaking hands to free Hoya's cock from the confines of his clothing. As Dongwoo rolls on a condom and lubes up his cock Hoya pulls the shoe from one of his feet—once the straps are undone it slides off like a soft breath, and as he takes Dongwoo's foot in his hand and presses it against his mouth his entire body goes bright and hot.

Hoya's dick throbs as Dongwoo guides it inside him, one hand on Hoya's cock and one on his tailbone, fingers trailing between his asscheeks, pulling him forward. Between the feeling of sliding inside him and the feeling of his foot rubbing over his face Hoya is completely lost, drowning in a sea of pleasure, deep and dark.

He bottoms out and below him Dongwoo moans, lower lip captured between his teeth. Hoya takes his other ankle in his free hand, licks a long line up the bottom of his foot, and thrusts hard and deep into Dongwoo's pliant body.

"Oh god," Dongwoo gasps, and his hand goes straight to his cock.

It's a blur after that.

It's Dongwoo's foot against his cheek, his ankle in his fist, his body laid out below him, writhing in pleasure. Dongwoo whines and gasps and yells as Hoya pounds into him; the couch inches across the floor with every thrust, groaning against the parquet.

Dongwoo's thighs are spread around his waist, his toes are curled, his legs are shaking. He's hot and soft and smooth inside and his foot is twitching under Hoya's tongue. Hoya wants to last longer, wishes he could, but like this he has no chance. He closes his eyes and bites on Dongwoo's heel—his bloodstream floods with endorphins, white hot under his skin. Dongwoo is screaming his pleasure; Hoya thinks about what he said— _it's you, it's you, it's because of you_ —and all at once he's gone.

Hoya comes so hard his vision goes dark and all his muscles go weak. Fire and color burst across the back of his brain, his muscles spasm, his cock throbs, he feels light and empty and heavy and full. Every inch of him tingles as orgasm washes over him, wave after wave of sensation moving through his body.

It seems to go on forever, and it's not until he opens his eyes that he realizes Dongwoo is coming too, his entire body gone still, come oozing from his fist, his other hand digging into Hoya's forearm, squeezing in time with the pulsing of his cock.

Hoya drags it out for as long as he can, thrusting shallowly and drawing decreasingly intense moans from Dongwoo until he's too soft to manage it. When he finally slips his cock from Dongwoo's body they both groan.

Once it's all subsided they lay there spent, panting, trying to catch their breath. For Hoya, the world is still spinning: after years of fantasizing, it's a little hard to believe the last fifteen minutes actually happened. He's still trying to regain his grasp on reality when Dongwoo finally speaks.

"There's dinner in the kitchen," he says with a sigh. "Cod soup and _pajeon_. Though it's probably a little cold by now."

Fuck. The best orgasm of his life _and_ seafood. Hoya presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. "You've outdone yourself."

"Don't speak so soon," Dongwoo says. When Hoya looks down at him his smile is crooked and his eyes are alight with mischief. His face is flushed with exertion but relaxed and happy, and honestly, Hoya thinks that may be the best present yet.

Dongwoo slides a finger under the top of his stocking and snaps it against his flesh. "You don't know what I've planned with Woohyun."


End file.
